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Stolen Encounters With The Duchess
Julia Justiss


She would rather burn in his presence than pine in his absenceFaith Wellingford Evers, Duchess of Ashedon, is tired of Society’s endless gossiping about her failings and her late husband’s infidelities. Seeking escape one night, she’s attacked by ruffians—but is saved by an unlikely figure from her past!Having risen from penniless orphan to Member of Parliament, David Tanner Smith is no longer the quiet boy Faith once knew. With their first spine-tingling kiss, their old friendship is transformed. And in its place is an explosive mix of illicit encounters and forbidden desire…







She would rather burn in his presence than pine in his absence

Faith Wellingford Evers, Duchess of Ashedon, is tired of society’s endless gossiping about her failings and her late husband’s infidelities. Seeking escape one night, she’s attacked by ruffians, but is saved by an unlikely figure from her past!

Having risen from penniless orphan to Member of Parliament, David Tanner Smith is no longer the quiet boy Faith once knew. With the first spine-tingling kiss, their old friendship is transformed. And in its place is an explosive mix of illicit encounters and forbidden desire…


Hadley’s Hellions

Four friends united by power, privilege

and the daring pursuit of passion!

From being disreputable rogues at Oxford

to becoming masters of the political game,

Giles Hadley, David Tanner Smith,

Christopher Lattimar and Benedict Tawny

live by their own set of unconventional rules.

But as the struggle for power heats up, so too,

do the lives of these daring friends. They face

unexpected challenges to their long-held beliefs

and rigid self-control when they meet

four gorgeous independent women

with defiant streaks of their own...

Read Giles Hadley’s story in

Forbidden Nights with the Viscount

Already available

Read David Tanner Smith’s story in

Stolen Encounters with the Duchess

Available now

And watch for more Hadley’s Hellions stories, coming soon!


Author Note (#ulink_f9232eba-eed1-545a-bd04-aaf7c50770ad)

For both readers and writers, sometimes secondary characters get stuck in our heads. Intrigued by the glimpses we’ve been given of them, we want to know their whole story. Where did they come from and what will happen to them?

Such was the case with Davie in From Waif to Gentleman’s Wife. An orphan taken in by an elderly widow, he becomes involved in the lives of Sir Edward Greaves and Joanna Merrill, the penniless governess who ends up on Ned’s doorstep. When Davie saves Joanna from danger, a grateful Ned takes him under his wing, impressed by the orphan’s courage, ingenuity and intelligence.

By the time I’d finished Waif I knew he would grow up to be a Parliamentary leader, instrumental in moving England towards a more egalitarian future with the great Reform Bill. I also knew that he would fall in love with Faith, the youngest Wellingford daughter—sister of Sarah, heroine of The Wedding Gamble—a girl far above his station. But how could they find a happy ending?

In Stolen Encounters with the Duchess, Davie has become that leader, and is still in love with the girl he met when he was just beginning his career. When they meet by chance ten years later he is an influential force, while Faith is a new widow, estranged from her family and Society. Although painfully aware that she is still far beyond his touch, David vows to reawaken in her the joy, optimism and self-confidence years of being a scorned, neglected wife have crushed. But love is a force that resists being contained...

I hope you will enjoy Faith and Davie’s story.


Stolen Encounters with the Duchess

Julia Justiss






www.millsandboon.co.uk (http://www.millsandboon.co.uk)


JULIA JUSTISS wrote her first ideas for Nancy Drew stories in her third-grade notebook, and has been writing ever since. After publishing poetry in college she turned to novels. Her Regency historical romances have won or been placed in contests by the Romance Writers of America, RT Book Reviews, National Readers’ Choice and the Daphne du Maurier Award. She lives with her husband in Texas. For news and contests visit juliajustiss.com (http://www.juliajustiss.com).


To Sue Ballard

You light up a room with your smile and brighten my day with your cheerful optimism. Thank you for being the inspiration for my Faith and for me.


Contents

Cover (#u10b43e81-1092-5a24-a310-20c2ede717d0)

Back Cover Text (#u30d7458b-4b7c-50d8-935a-3541e50d9f2a)

Introduction (#u1640c31e-ae4d-59f5-b8f0-3208e21c5b12)

Author Note (#ulink_3d62af16-ebc8-5f94-a8cd-cde8c258fde9)

Title Page (#u08af7923-62a9-5209-87e2-3e9db604bc3a)

About the Author (#u67ec0ea9-5bc1-554a-9420-7ad69879330e)

Dedication (#u3d6f0bd9-14b3-5b2d-8e5a-96dc0fbf87d6)

Chapter One (#ulink_93487c02-b96c-5544-ad78-7f50e7aff1b7)

Chapter Two (#ulink_f6d4632e-5a04-5f04-91e6-052aa4e355ff)

Chapter Three (#ulink_9cb99294-0e86-5f36-925a-57000b38d2e9)

Chapter Four (#ulink_588bf52a-ac07-5ea7-b530-be33a6ae27ee)

Chapter Five (#ulink_e005497d-c6c6-5fcc-831e-c7112d4eb68e)

Chapter Six (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter Seven (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter Eight (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter Nine (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter Ten (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter Eleven (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter Twelve (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter Thirteen (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter Fourteen (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter Fifteen (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter Sixteen (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter Seventeen (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter Eighteen (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter Nineteen (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter Twenty (#litres_trial_promo)

Extract (#litres_trial_promo)

Copyright (#litres_trial_promo)


Chapter One (#ulink_d0baeb1d-0561-525c-9776-12803608ca31)

Setting off at a pace brisk enough to clear the wine fumes from his head, David Tanner Smith, Member of Parliament for Hazelwick, headed from the Mayfair town house where he’d dined with some Whig colleagues towards his rooms at Albany.

The friends had urged him to stay for a few more rounds, but after a day of enduring the mostly irrelevant objections the opponents of the Reform Bill kept raising to delay bringing it to a vote, he was weary of political talk. He was also, he had to admit, somewhat out of spirits.

His footsteps would echo loudly once he reached the solitary rooms of his chambers. Though he rejoiced that his best friend, Giles Hadley, had found happiness with Lady Margaret, he’d discovered that losing the companion with whom he’d shared rooms since their student days at Oxford had left him lonelier than he’d anticipated.

Since the only woman he’d ever loved was far beyond the touch of a lowly farmer’s orphan, he didn’t expect he’d ever find wedded bliss himself. Being common-born, but sponsored by a baronet and a marquess, put him in an odd social limbo, not of the gentry, never acceptable to the haut ton, but as a rising politician in the Whigs, not a nonentity either.

Rather a conundrum, which spared him attentions from marriage-minded mamas who couldn’t quite decide whether he would be a good match for their daughters or not, he thought with a wry grin.

The smile faded as he recalled the stillness of Giles’s empty room back in Piccadilly. Who might he marry, if he were ever lonely enough? The daughter of a cit who valued his political aspirations? A politically minded aristocrat who would overlook the lack of birth in exchange for elbow room at the tables of power?

He was rounding the dark corner from North Audley Street towards Oxford Street when the sounds of an altercation reached him. Slowing, he peered through the dimness ahead, where he could just make out the figures of two men and what appeared to be a young woman draped in an evening cloak.

‘You will release me at once, or I will call the watch,’ she declared.

‘Will ye, now?’ one of them mocked with a coarse laugh.

The other, grasping the woman’s shoulder, said, ‘The only thing you’ll be doing is handing your necklace over to us—and the bracelet and earbobs, too, if you don’t want that pretty face marred. ‘

‘Aye, so pretty that maybe we’ll take you to a fancy house after,’ the other man added. ‘They’d pay a lot for a tender morsel like you, I reckon.’

‘Take your hands off me!’ the girl shrieked, kicking out and twisting in the first man’s grip, as the second pulled on the ties to her cape.

Davie tightened his grip on his walking stick and ran towards them. ‘Let the woman go!’ he shouted, raising the stick menacingly. ‘Now—before I call the watch.’

For an instant, seeing his imposing size, the men froze. Then, city blokes obviously having no idea of the damage a strong yeoman could do with a stout stave, they ignored him and resumed trying to subdue the struggling female.

He’d warned them, Davie thought. After having to restrain himself around buffoons all day, the prospect of being able to deliver a few good whacks raised his spirits immensely.

With a roar, he rushed them, catching the first man under his ear with the end of the stick and knocking him away. Rapidly reversing it, he delivered an uppercut to the chin of the second. The sharp crack of fracturing bone sounded before the second man, howling, released his hold. Wrenching free, the lass lifted her skirts and took to her heels.

Davie halted a moment, panting. Much as he’d like to round the two up and deliver them to the nearest constable, he probably ought to follow the girl. Any female alone on the street at this time of night was likely to attract more trouble—at the very least, some other footpad looking for an easy mark, if not far worse.

Decision made, he turned away from the attackers and ran after her. ‘Don’t worry, I won’t hurt you!’ he called out. ‘It’s not safe, walking alone in London at night. Let me escort you home.’

The girl gave a quick glance over her shoulder, but apparently unconvinced, fled on. Hampered by her skirts, she wouldn’t have been able to outrun him for long, but before he could catch up to her, she tripped on something and stumbled. With a cry, she fell to her knees.

Reaching her in a few strides, Davie halted at her side and offered a hand to help her to her feet. The girl took it, but then suddenly jerked away with such violence that, when Davie hung on instead of releasing her, the force of the ricochet slammed her back into Davie, chest to chest.

Swearing under his breath, Davie held fast to the lass, who immediately began struggling again. ‘Stop it!’ he said sharply. ‘I told you, I don’t mean to hurt you.’ Lowering his voice, he continued, ‘We’ll sort this out, miss, but not on a public street. Let me take you somewhere safer, and you can tell me how to get you home to your family.’

With a deep sigh, the girl ceased trying to pull away from him. ‘Please, Davie,’ she said softly, ‘won’t you just let me go?’

The dearly familiar voice shocked him like the sharp edge of a razor slicing skin. ‘Faith?’ he said incredulously.

* * *

To his astonishment, as he turned the woman’s face up into the lamplight, Davie recognised that it was, in fact, Faith Wellingford Evers, Duchess of Ashedon, he had trapped against him.

Before he could get his stunned tongue to utter another word, the lady pulled away. ‘Yes, it’s Faith,’ she admitted. ‘I was on my way to find a hackney to take me home. Couldn’t you pretend you hadn’t seen me, and let me go?’

As the reality of her identity sank in, a second wave of shock, sharpened by horror over what might have happened to her, held him speechless for another moment. Then, swallowing a curse, Davie clamped a hand around her wrist and began walking her forward. ‘No, Duchess, I can’t let you—’

‘Faith, Davie. Please, let it be Faith. Can’t I escape, at least for a while, being the Duchess?’

It shouldn’t have, but it warmed his heart that she would allow such familiarity to someone who’d not been a close friend for years. ‘Regardless, I can’t let you wander on your own, chasing down a carriage to get you back to Berkeley Square. The streets in Mayfair are better, but nowhere in London is truly safe after dark, for anyone alone. To say nothing of a woman!’

‘You were alone,’ she pointed out.

‘Yes, but I was also armed and able to defend myself,’ he retorted. ‘I was going to take the young lass I’d rescued to a tavern and discover how to help her, but I can’t do that with you. Not around here, where we are both known. You’d better let me summon the hackney and escort you safely home.’

She slowed, resisting his forward motion. ‘You’re sure you can’t just let me go?’ After his sharp look of a reply, she said softly, ‘I didn’t set out to be foolish or irresponsible. I am sorry to have inadvertently got you involved.’

She swallowed hard, and the tears he saw sparkling at the edge of her lashes hit him like a fist to the chest. How it still distressed him to see her upset!

‘Well, I’m not. Can you imagine the uproar, if you had summoned the watch, and they discovered your identity? Far better for it to be me, whose discretion you can depend upon. If you don’t want to find out what society would say about a duchess wandering around alone on a Mayfair street, we better return you to Ashedon Place as soon as possible, before someone in a passing carriage recognises you.’

When she still resisted, a most unpalatable thought occurred. ‘You...you do trust me not to harm you, don’t you, Faith?’

She uttered a long, slow sigh that further tore at his heart. ‘Of course, I trust you, Davie. Very well, find us a hackney. And you don’t have to hang on to me. I won’t bolt again.’

Without another word, she resumed walking beside him. The energy that had fuelled her flight seemed to have drained out of her; head lowered, shoulders slumping, she looked...beaten, and weary.

Good thing he had to be mindful that some ton notable might at any minute drive by, else he might not have been able to resist the strong impulse to pick her up and carry her. After a few more minutes of brisk walking, they arrived at a hackney stand where, fortunately, a vehicle waited. Still not entirely believing he was accompanying his Faith—no, the widowed Duchess of Ashedon, he corrected himself, never his—he helped her in, guiding her back on to the seat.

After rapping on the panel to signal the driver to start, Davie looked back at the Duchess. ‘Are you all right? They didn’t hurt you? What about your knees? You took quite a fall.’ If they had harmed her, he’d track them down and take them apart limb from limb.

‘No,’ she said in a small voice. ‘I was frightened, and furious; my arm got twisted, but I’ve nothing more than bruises. I think I landed a few good kicks, too.’

‘Thank heaven for that! Before we get back to Berkeley Square, can you tell me how you ended up alone on the street at this time of night?’

‘Can’t you just let me return, and spare the exposition?’

He studied the outline of her profile in the light of the carriage lamps. ‘I don’t mean to pry. But finding you alone, practically in the middle of the night—well, it’s disturbing. Something isn’t right. I’d like to help fix it, if I can.’

To his further distress, the remark brought tears back to her eyes. ‘Ah, Davie. You’ve always wanted to make things better, haven’t you? Compelled to fix everything—government, Parliament, society. But this can’t be fixed.’

She looked so worn and miserable, Davie ached to pull her into his arms. Nothing new about that; he’d ached to hold her since he’d first seen her, more than ten years ago. Sister-in-law of a marquess, she’d been almost as unattainable then as she was now, as the widow of a duke.

Unfortunately, that hadn’t kept him from falling in love with her, or loving her all the years since.

‘What happened?’ he asked quietly. ‘What upset you so much, you had to escape into the night?’

She remained silent, her expression not just weary, but almost...despairing. While he hesitated, torn between respecting her privacy and the compulsion to right whatever was wrong in her universe, at last, she shrugged. ‘I might as well tell you, I suppose. It wasn’t some stupid wager, though, if that’s what you’re thinking.’

‘I’m sure it wasn’t. You may have been high-spirited and carefree as a girl, but you were never a brainless ninny, or a daredevil.’

‘Was I high-spirited and carefree? Maybe I was, once. It’s been so long.’

Her dull voice and lifeless eyes ratcheted his concern up even further. Granted, these two unlikely friends had grown apart in the years since the idyllic summer they’d met, he twenty and serving his first stint as secretary to Sir Edward Greaves, she a golden-haired, sixteen-year-old sprite paying a long visit to her cousin, Sir Edward’s wife. But even on the occasions he’d seen her since her marriage, her eyes had still held that warmth and joy for life that had so captured his heart the first time he set eyes on her.

‘You were carefree,’ he affirmed. ‘Which makes the fact that I found you alone on the street, seeking transport home, even more troubling. What drove you to it?’

‘Ever since Ashedon’s death—by the way, thank you for your kind note of condolence—his mother, the Dowager Duchess, has been making noises about how she must support “the poor young Duchess and her darling boys” and see that the “tragic young Duke” receives the guidance necessary for his elevated status in life. A month ago, she made good on her threat and moved herself back into Ashedon Place. She’s been wanting to do so for years, but though his mother doted on him, Ashedon knew how interfering she is and wouldn’t allow it. It’s enough that I must tolerate the sweetly contemptuous comments of other society matrons at all those boring, insipid evenings I’ve come to hate! Now, I have to live with the Dowager’s carping and criticism as well, every day. Then, tonight, when I accompanied her to the party she insisted we attend, I discovered her younger son, my brother-in-law Lord Randall, was there. When he caught me alone in the hallway on my way to the ladies’ retiring room and tried to force a kiss on me, I’d had enough. I knew the Dowager wasn’t ready to leave, and would never believe anything derogatory about her precious son, so there was no hope of persuading her to summon the carriage. But remaining was intolerable, so I decided to walk towards Oxford Street and look for a hackney.’

She gave a little sigh, the sadness of it piercing his heart. ‘Ashedon and his doxies were bad enough, and now this. Sometimes I don’t think I can bear it any longer.’

His heart ached for the gentle spirit whose girlish dreams of being loved and cherished had been slowly crushed under the heel of her husband’s indifference, leaving her trapped, a lonely and neglected wife. As Davie was trapped in his place, unable to help her.

Except, always, to be a friend.

To his dismay, the tears he’d seen on her lashes earlier began to silently slip down her cheeks. Putting up a hand to try to mask them, she turned away.

And then, somehow, she was in his arms, cradled against his chest. She clung to him and he clutched her tightly, almost ready to bless the ruffians he’d rescued her from, for without that incident, the marvel of holding her would never have been his. It was a dream come true; oh, far better than any dream, to feel the softness of her pressed against him, her lavender scent filling his nostrils, her silky blonde curls under his chin. He could die right now, and be content, for he would never get any closer to heaven.

And if his body burned to possess her fully, he rebuked it. He’d never expected to have even this much bliss; he’d not ask for more.

Inevitably and all too soon, she got herself back under control, and pulled away.

Letting her go, when all he wanted was to hold her for ever, was the hardest thing he’d ever done.

‘Sorry,’ she said gruffly. ‘Usually I’m not so poor-spirited.’

‘Don’t be sorry. I’m only glad I was here, to stand your friend.’

‘My friend. I have few enough of those. I did try to be careful tonight, I assure you! I suppose...I suppose I was just too tired and preoccupied, because I never noticed the two men who must have followed me. They seemed to appear out of nowhere.’

Davie shook his head with a shudder. ‘I’m only glad I happened along. What they might have done to you, I don’t even want to contemplate.’

She nodded. ‘They threatened to take me to a brothel. Could they drag a woman there against her will, or were they just trying to frighten me?’

‘I’m afraid it’s quite possible. A little laudanum, and you might have awakened to find yourself locked in a room in some den of vice somewhere,’ he answered grimly.

‘Except for not seeing my sons again, I’m not sure I’d have cared. I thought of leaving Ashedon, oh, so many times! But I couldn’t have taken my boys with me—legally, they belonged to him, of course, and Edward is the heir. Though I saw little enough of them; the Duke didn’t think children should be spoiled by having their mother dote on them. Now that he’s gone, I’ve tried to alter that, though I must continually fight against the Dowager and their tutor to do it. As long as I get to be with my boys, one way or another, I will endure it—for now, anyway.’

‘Have you talked with your family, your sisters? Do they know how unhappy you are?’

She smiled wryly. ‘I...I’m not that close to them any more. The Duke actively discouraged me from seeing my family at the beginning of our marriage. Silly me, I thought it was because he wanted me all to himself. Which he did, in a way. He didn’t want anyone around who might interfere with his authority. So over the years, we...drifted further and further apart. As you and I did.’

He nodded. ‘I’m sure they regret that as much as I do. Could you not try to re-establish ties?’

‘I suppose. But there isn’t anything they can do to help me, either. Most of the time I manage better.’ She tried to summon a smile for him. ‘It’s only rarely that I feel as if I’ll...burst out of my skin if I don’t get away from all of it.’

‘As you did tonight.’

‘As I did tonight.’

He looked at her, frowning. ‘At the moment, I don’t have any clever ideas on how to make things better. But will you promise me something?’

‘What?’ she asked, tilting her head at him with an enquiring look, and instantly, he was catapulted back into the memories.

How many times that summer had she gazed up at him just like that, her eager mind probing further into whatever they were discussing—poetry, politics, agriculture? As if the whole world excited and enthralled her, and she could not learn enough about it.

Fury fired in him again to realise how much of that joy had been squeezed out of her.

Suppressing the anger, he replied, ‘The next time you feel you cannot stand it a minute longer, please, don’t go wandering around the streets by yourself! Send me a note; I’ll meet you somewhere, anywhere, and we can talk. You’re not alone, Faith. You’ll never be alone, while I still draw breath. Promise me?’

She studied him for a moment. ‘You mean that?’

‘Of course. I never say anything I don’t mean.’

She nodded, the faintest of smiles on her lips. ‘Yes, I remember that about you. And how you were always a loyal friend. Very well, I promise.’

‘Good,’ he said, troubled still, but feeling a bit better about her situation. ‘We should be at Berkeley Square shortly, which is fortunate—especially if your mother-in-law noticed you were gone, and rushed home to find you.’

She shrugged. ‘She’d probably rejoice to have me gone. Except, she’d no longer have so ready a target for her complaints.’

‘You’re just weary. Everything will look better in the morning, when you’re rested.’

‘Will it?’ She smiled. ‘Maybe for a man who’s set out to change the world. I do hear some of what you’re accomplishing, by the way, even in the wilderness of the ton. Not that anyone talks about it to me directly, of course—politics being too intellectually challenging for a woman. No, we are left to discuss trimming bonnets, managing servants, and perhaps, if we’ve very bold, speculating about who might make the best lover, or which dancer in the Green Room has become the latest mistress of which nobleman.’

He grimaced. ‘There could be so much more than that! As you doubtless know, my friend Giles Hadley, Viscount Lyndlington, recently married Lady Margaret Roberts. She has played political hostess to her father, Lord Witlow, for years; not only does she understand politics, she and her father frequently bring together the best minds in government, science and art to debate all manner of topics at their “discussion evenings”.’

‘That sounds wonderful—and so much more stimulating that anything I get to experience. Unless...’ Her dull eyes brightened. ‘Did you really mean what you said, about meeting me? ‘

‘Didn’t I already answer that?’

‘Then...would you meet me tomorrow afternoon? I usually drive with the Dowager during the Promenade Hour in Hyde Park, but after tonight, I would rather not endure the hour-long lecture she will surely subject me to about my improper behaviour in leaving that wretched party. Would you meet me instead—at Gunter’s, perhaps? No one we know should be there at that hour, so we won’t be disturbed. I would love to hear more about what you are doing in Parliament. Perhaps I will even understand it.’

He ought to be in committee meetings, but when she looked at him with that appeal in her eyes, he’d have agreed to miss the final vote on the bill. ‘Yes, I’ll meet you there.’

The carriage slowed, indicating they were about to reach their destination. Davie felt a stab of disappointment; he could have ridden about London, talking with Faith, all night.

Bowing to the inevitable, he hopped out as the vehicle stopped and reached up to hand her down. ‘I’ll wait until you’re safely inside,’ he said as she descended.

‘Very well.’ She took a step towards the front door, then stopped, as if she couldn’t quite bring herself to re-enter the Duchess’s realm. Turning back to him, she went up on tiptoe and gave him a quick kiss on his jaw.

While his heart stuttered, then raced in his chest, she said, ‘Thank you, Davie. For your rescue, and much more. For the first time in a long time, I have a “tomorrow” I can look forward to.’

As did he, he thought as she ran up the steps. The privilege of escorting her about probably wouldn’t last long. He intended to relish every second.


Chapter Two (#ulink_1d77ba35-af44-529e-8378-cd1772e3acd9)

The following afternoon, after dispatching a note to her mother-in-law, a late riser who had not yet left her rooms, informing her a previous engagement would prevent her driving to the Park, Faith let her maid put the finishing touches to her coiffure. ‘There, madame,’ Yvette said, her eyes shining with pride. ‘Who could find fault with such an angel?’

‘A great many,’ Faith muttered. But knowing the soft-hearted girl was only trying to encourage her, she gave her a smile. ‘The new arrangement is lovely. Have you a name for it?’

‘Trône de la Reine,’ the maid replied. ‘And comme ça accord, madame!’

‘Thank you. I shall be the loveliest lady present.’ Thankfully, not at the Park, Faith added silently as she descended to the hackney the butler had summoned, her spirits buoyed by knowing she’d not have to grit her teeth while the Dowager recited the long litany of offences she’d committed last night. Instead, anticipation rising at the thought, she would have Davie to talk to.

She’d missed the company of the young man to whom she’d grown even closer than she was to her sisters during the time she’d spent as a guest of her cousin, stretching a visit planned for a month into a summer-long idyll. His calm counsel, his stimulating ideas and his zeal to create a better future had inspired and excited her. Truth to tell, she’d fancied herself a bit in love with him by the time she’d been summoned home to prepare for her upcoming Season.

Only too aware that he was no fitting match for a daughter of one of the oldest families in England, she’d nonetheless hoped she might share with him some of her thoughts and observations of London, but he’d remained at Oxford during her Season. Instead, mesmerised by the Duke’s assiduous and flattering attentions, envied by every other unmarried female on the Marriage Mart and their resentful mamas, she’d allowed herself to believe she’d fallen as much in love with her noble suitor as he had with her.

Why had she never noticed how cold and calculating his eyes were, compared to the warmth and compassion in Davie’s?

Far too late to regret that now.

With a sigh, Faith let the footman hand her into the carriage. Glancing back towards the shuttered windows of the town house, she felt a pang of foreboding. She was likely to draw enough fire for not attending her mother-in-law’s daily ride through the Park; were the woman to learn Faith missed that important event to associate with a man so far beneath her station, she’d be harangued for a month.

Still, it was time to wrench herself out of the influence of her mother-in-law and the misery that evoked. The Dowager had no real control over her; without the dictates of a husband to prevent it, she could involve herself more in the wider world.

Just talking with Davie, she knew, would help her do that. With each street that brought their rendezvous closer, her excitement and anticipation grew.

* * *

At last the carriage arrived, Faith so impatient she could hardly wait for the vehicle to stop before climbing down and hurrying into the establishment. She spotted Davie immediately, seated in an alcove on the far side of the room. The appreciation on his face as she approached his table made her glad she’d decided to wear the new grey gown that flattered her figure and showed her complexion to advantage.

‘Duchess, what a pleasant surprise,’ he said, rising and giving her a bow. ‘How lovely you look!’

‘How kind you are, Mr Smith,’ she replied. ‘Though as a mother of three, I’m afraid I’ve lost the bloom of youth you probably remember.’

‘Nonsense, it would take more than a brace of boys to erase that,’ he replied, helping her to a seat. ‘Tea? Or would you prefer ices?’

‘Tea, please.’

After sending the waiter off for refreshments, he looked back to study her.

‘You do look rested. Truly fresh as a young girl, and not at all like the venerable mother of three.’

She laughed. ‘I’d hoped for more children, but with three boys making the succession secure, Ashedon...lost interest.’ Or had he kept mistresses all along, and she’d just been too stupid to notice? ‘Somehow, growing up with a brother and all those sisters, I expected when I had a family of my own, I’d be surrounded by children. But as their mother, I spend much of the day in my world, and they in the nursery, in theirs.’

Davie chuckled. ‘Unlike growing up in a farm family, where the children are underfoot all day, learning from their mamas or doing chores for their papas. Close even at night, stuffed as they are in the loft just above the main room, like sausage in a casing! Maybe you should have been a simple farmer’s wife.’

‘Maybe I should have.’

She looked up into his eyes, those kind eyes she remembered so well—and suddenly, saw a flash of heat there, so intense and sudden it shook her.

It shook her even more to feel an answering heat from deep within. Suddenly she was brought back to last night, where despite her fatigue and misery, she’d been intensely aware of being held against his chest.

His broad, solid chest. The tall, rangy youth she’d known had grown into a tall, well-muscled, physically impressive man. Not fitting the wasp-waisted, whip-thin dandy profile now so popular among society’s gentlemen, he was instead big, sturdy, and solid, built more like a...a medieval knight, or a boxer. Strong, powerful, and imposing.

For a time, while he held her, she’d felt—safe, and at peace. If she were still the naïve and trusting girl she’d once been, she might even have said ‘cherished’.

But that was merely an illusion born of need and wishful thinking.

Still, she hadn’t mistaken the desire she’d just seen in his eyes before he masked it, nor the physical response he evoked in her. That unexpected attraction would...complicate a renewal of their friendship, yet at the same time, she was fiercely glad of it. The realisation that he wanted her was a balm to her battered self-esteem, reviving a sense she’d nearly lost of herself as a desirable woman.

She cleared her throat nervously. Welcome as it was, the unexpected sensual tension humming between them was so unexpected, and she had so little experience dealing with it, she felt suddenly awkward. ‘Thank you for meeting me,’ she said at last. ‘I was so relieved not to have to ride in the Park today and feel all those eyes on me, while the Dowager harangued.’

‘I suppose that’s the price of being a Duchess. You will always be the focus of attention, wherever you go and whatever you do.’

She wrinkled her nose. ‘Yes, and it’s so distasteful. I don’t know why that fact didn’t occur to me before I wed a duke, but it didn’t. I’ve never enjoyed the attention.’ She sighed. ‘Especially as Ashedon and his women provided so much scandal for society to watch my reaction to.’

His jaw tightened and a fierce look came over his face before he burst out, ‘Your husband was a fool! Even if I shouldn’t say it.’

Gratified, she smiled sadly. ‘I didn’t mind him being a fool. I just minded that he never loved me. But I didn’t come today to whine about poor, neglected little me. I want to hear about something of real importance. Tell me of your work! I always hoped we would maintain our friendship, but after the wedding, and with you at Oxford...I do know that, with Sir Edward and my cousin Nicky’s support, you were elected MP from Hazelwick shortly after leaving university. And I seem to remember something about “Hadley’s Hellions”? What was that?’

He chuckled. ‘Fortunately for a commoner like me, I met Giles Hadley soon after arriving at Oxford. As I imagine you know, although he’s Viscount Lyndlington, until very recently he’d been estranged from his father, the earl. After growing up in an isolated cottage, he didn’t form friendships with anyone from the ton, bonding instead when he was sent to Eton with other outsiders—Ben Tawny, the natural son of Viscount Chilford, and Christopher Lattimar, son of Lord Vraux.

‘That name I do know,’ she said. ‘One of the “Vraux Miscellany”, siblings supposedly all fathered by different men?’

Davie nodded. ‘With those backgrounds, you can understand why all of them felt that society and government needed reforming, with the power to change not left in the tight-fisted hands of a few whose only qualification for the job was that their families had always held it.’

‘A view of reform you always supported,’ she inserted, recalling their spirited discussions of government and politics that long-ago summer.

‘I did. When Giles stumbled upon me, reading alone in one of the pubs, he immediately drew me into his circle. First, out of kindness for a commoner whom he knew would never be invited into any of the aristocratic groups. But once we began discussing what we hoped to accomplish once we left university, we soon discovered we aspired to the same goals.’

‘And those aspirations, in the eyes of the powerful, were enough for you to be labelled hellions?’ she guessed.

‘They were bad enough, but we didn’t win that label until some of the dons, churchmen all, discovered we aimed to eliminate the clergy’s seats in the Lords. An intention, they felt, that could only have been inspired by the devil.’

She tilted her head at him. ‘Was it only that? Or was the name partly earned for exploits more scandalous than you care to mention to my innocent ears?’

Had he been a hellion? A little thrill went through her as she studied him from under the cover of her lashes. He was certainly virile enough to excite a woman’s desire. Had he cut a swathe through the ladies of Oxford?

She found herself feeling jealous of any female he’d favoured with his amorous attentions.

‘Having served with the army in India,’ his words recalled her, ‘Ben was something of a rabble-rouser, and Christopher was always a favourite with the ladies. Giles and I generally didn’t have enough blunt to kick up too many larks, one of the reasons we pooled our resources and began rooming together early on. We helped each other, too, once it came time to campaign. As you may know, your brother-in-law, the Marquess, gave me his generous support when I stood for the seat under Sir Edward’s control in Hazelwick, for which I’m grateful.’

‘How could Nicky, or anyone else, listen to you explain your views, and not be persuaded? You certainly convinced me that summer! How close are you to accomplishing your aims?’

‘A new Parliament convened in June, filled overwhelmingly with supporters of reform. We’re very hopeful that by later this autumn, we’ll finally get a bill passed.’ He gave her a wry grimace. ‘There are still recalcitrants who seek to delay us by bringing up an endless series of irrelevant discussions. Sometimes I’d like to knock a few heads together in the committee room, like I did last night on the street!’

‘You were certainly effective there!’ she declared, shuddering a little as she recalled how close to disaster she’d come. ‘So there will be a change in the way the country is governed, for the first time since the medieval era? How exciting!’

‘It is exciting, to know you can influence the governance of the nation.’

She gave a wry smile. ‘I have enough difficulty exerting influence in the mundane matters of everyday life.’

‘As duchess? Surely not!’

She hesitated, tempted to continue, though she really shouldn’t confide in him. She’d had to struggle these last miserable years to transform the open, plain-spoken girl she’d once been into a woman who kept her own counsel. But the warmth of his regard, and that inexplicable sense of connection that seemed to have survived the years they’d been apart, pulled at her.

How long had it been since she’d had anyone to talk to, anyone who truly cared about her feelings or her needs?

Compelled by some force she didn’t seem able to resist, she explained, ‘Ashedon’s housekeeper has been there since his mother’s day, and is ferociously competent. Since my husband supported her authority, I barely had more to do than arrange flowers and approve menus. Now that my mother-in-law has returned to Ashedon Place, challenging Mrs West’s years of unopposed domination, the two are in a constant battle for control, a struggle that frequently traps me in the middle.’ She sighed. ‘And then, there’s the boys.’

‘Your sons? Is your mother-in-law trying to take them over, too?’ he guessed. ‘How difficult that must be for you.’ Almost absently, he put his hand over hers, giving her fingers a reassuring squeeze. ‘But as their mother, you must make sure your will prevails.’

She ought to remove her hand. But that simple touch evoked such a powerful surge of emotion—gratitude for his compassion, relief at his understanding, and a heady wave of sensual awareness that intensified that sense of connection. She could no more make herself pull away than she could march back home and evict the Dowager.

‘I am trying,’ she said, savouring the titillating, forbidden feel of her hand enclosed in his. ‘As I told you before, the Duke didn’t consider it proper for his Duchess to hang about the nursery, an impediment to Nurse and the maids going about their duties.’ She gave him a wry smile. ‘I was reduced to visiting at night, tiptoeing past the sleeping maid to sit at the foot of their beds and study their little faces in the darkness. Since Ashedon’s death, I’ve worked to find ways to spend more time with them, but I’ve had to fight Carlisle, the tutor Ashedon installed, at every turn. My increased involvement with the boys was the first thing the Dowager criticised when she invaded us. I’ve held my ground—the first and only time I’ve defied her—but she reinforces Carlisle as much as she can, making it as difficult as possible.’

‘Bravo for resisting her! That can’t have been pleasant. Now you just need to figure out better ways to get round the tutor.’

‘Yes. And to keep the boys away from their uncle—an even worse example of manhood than my late husband, which is the truth, even if it’s not kind of me to say so.’ She grimaced, remembering the feel of Lord Randall’s hands biting into her shoulders as he tried to force her into that kiss. ‘Since his mother has taken up residence, he seems to think he can drop in whenever he wishes, usually to dine, or to borrow money from his mother. One of the few things Ashedon and I agreed on was that his brother is a wastrel who will spend as much of the family fortune as he can get his hands on.’

‘Then you definitely need to get the boys away more. There are so many places they might enjoy—the British Museum, riding in the parks, Astley’s Amphitheatre—even Parliament.’ He lifted a brow at her. ‘The young Duke will take his place in the Lords there, some day.’

‘Ready to persuade him to join your coalition?’ she teased, immeasurably cheered by his sympathetic support.

‘It’s never too early to start.’ Smiling, he raised her hand, as if to kiss it. And only then seemed to realise he’d been holding it.

He sucked in a breath as he looked down at their joined hands, then up to meet her gaze, and his grip tightened. In an instant, a touch meant to offer comfort transformed into something more primal, as heat and light blazed between them, palpable as the flash of lightning, the rumble of thunder before a storm.

In his eyes blazed the same passion she’d glimpsed earlier. The same passion she felt, building in a slow conflagration from her core outward. Struck as motionless as he, she could only cling to his fingers, relishing every atom of that tiny bit of contact between them.

Slowly, as if he found it as difficult to break the connection as she had earlier, his grip eased and he let her go. His ardent expression turned troubled, and for a moment, she was terribly afraid he would apologise.

Which would be beyond enduring, since she wasn’t sorry at all.

He opened his lips and hesitated, as if searching for words. Watching his mouth, her mind obsessed by imagining the feel of it against hers, she was incapable of finding any herself.

At last, he cleared his throat. ‘Perhaps you could take your sons to call on your sister, Lady Englemere? She’s in town with the Marquess for Parliament, I expect. Let the boys become better acquainted with their cousins?’

He looked back down at their now separate hands as he spoke, as if he regretted as much as she did the need to break that link between them.

Forcing her attention back to his words, she replied, ‘At the moment, they aren’t acquainted at all. I don’t even know if Sarah is in London; she may still be in the country.’ Faith grimaced. ‘Lucky her. The thing I’ve hated most about life as a duchess is being trapped in London, far from the “unfashionable” countryside Ashedon despised and I love so much.’

Davie nodded. ‘I seem to remember a penchant for riding in breeches and climbing trees.’

That observation brought her a smile. ‘Yes. We used to climb that big elm in Cousin Joanna’s garden, and I’d read you poetry. There were a few early-morning races on horseback, too, I recall, before Joanna found out and made me ride at a more decorous pace, on side-saddle.’ Nostalgia for that carefree past welled up. ‘How I miss those days,’ she said softly.

‘Avoid looking back by building something better to look forward to,’ Davie advised quietly.

She glanced back at him, seeing sympathy overlay the passion in his eyes. ‘Like you are doing for the nation.’

‘Like you can do for yourself. You are free now, Faith. Free to remake the future as you choose.’

And what would she choose, if she were completely free? Desire resurged, strong and urgent. What if I said I wanted you, now?

But of course, she did not say that. ‘I may be freer,’ she replied. ‘But with the Dowager, and my sons’ futures to protect, I’ll never truly be free of the shadow of being Duchess. Never truly free to choose only what I want.’

She gazed at him, willing him to understand what she could not say. Perhaps he did, for his face shuttered, masking whatever response her answer aroused in him.

‘Then, as in Parliament, you must strike the best deal you can get with the opposition, so all can move forward. Speaking of which, I’m afraid I must get back.’

A sharp pang of regret made her want to protest. Suppressing it, she said, ‘Of course. You have important work waiting. Which just reinforces how trivial my little problems are. How I wish I could observe you making those real, significant changes!’

‘There’s nothing more important to the future of the nation than you raising your boys properly! But if you would be interested in hearing some conversation about the Reform Bill, Lady Lyndlington still plays hostess for her father. I’m sure she would be delighted to include you in one of their discussion evenings. With it being hosted by a marquess, I don’t think the Dowager could object to your attending. Shall I ask Lady Lyndlington to send you an invitation?’

Oh, to spend an evening where people talked about important ideas, where, among statesmen and diplomats, a mere society female whose opinions were of little value would be ignored. Where she’d be able to sit quietly and just observe. And escape, for an evening, all the petty problems that pricked at her daily.

‘It sounds fascinating, but...would you be there, too? It would be rather intimidating to attend such a gathering of intellectuals, having only a slight acquaintance with all those present.’

‘I’m sure you’ll have met most of them at various society gatherings. But, yes, if it would make you feel easier, I could make sure I’m invited as well.’

‘Then, I should love it! If you’re certain Lady Lyndlington wouldn’t find it impertinent of me to request an invitation? I’ve met her, of course, but could hardly claim to call her a friend.’

‘I imagine she would be delighted of your company, but I will ask. Now, we should probably be getting you back as well. Shall I send you a note after I’ve spoken to Lady Lyndlington?’

Glancing over at the clock, Faith noticed to her surprise that they had been chatting for some time. ‘Yes, I should go, too. I’d prefer to already be at home before my mother-in-law returns from the Park, and the inquisition begins.’

Hating to bring their time together to an end, Faith made herself rise. ‘How can I ever thank you enough? Rescuing me not once, but twice, and then offering the promise of a stimulating evening.’

‘It would give me the greatest delight to stimulate you.’

Her eyes flew to his face, and though it coloured a little at the blatant double entendre, he didn’t apologise, nor did he retract the remark. Instead, he simply looked at her, giving her another glimpse of heat before masking his gaze.

Arousal returned in a rush. How easily she could imagine the delight his ‘stimulation’ would bring her!

She wanted to reply in kind, to make clear she understood and shared his desire. But so inexperienced was she in flirtation, before she could come up with some cleverly suggestive remark, he said, ‘I hope you’ll enjoy a political evening at Lord Witlow’s even half as much as I have enjoyed this conversation. I’ll send you a note as soon as I’ve spoken with Lady Lyndlington.’

She suppressed a sigh, irritated that she’d let the opportunity slip. Accepting his redirection of the conversation back into proper channels, she said, ‘Thank you again. I’ve enjoyed our conversation, too. We mustn’t let our friendship lapse again, must we?’

Friendship...and perhaps more? He offered his arm, and she took it, a little surge of energy flashing between them the instant her fingers touched him. As he escorted her out, she was once again intensely aware of his virile presence beside her, the strength, confidence and sense of purpose that seemed to radiate from him.

Ah, yes, her Davie had grown up, and the man he’d become fascinated—and attracted—her. Regardless of the potential danger of that attraction and the possible objections from her mother-in-law about being in his company, she couldn’t wait to spend more time with him.


Chapter Three (#ulink_a0fdf81d-2d67-5421-9222-d6747da1c119)

After seeing the Duchess safely off in a hackney, Davie started walking. He should go back to the committee room, but after spending time with Faith, he was too energised, excited—and aroused—to be able to recapture yet the calm and imperturbable mask he wore when doing political work.

And partly, he admitted to himself, he wanted to savour the rare experience of spending time with her. Let himself linger and recall each moment, like a collector taking a precious object out of a treasure box, to admire and examine again and again.

As a girl, she’d glowed with an infectious joy in life that drew people to her, like an inn’s beacon attracts travellers on a cold, dark night. He recalled her fixing that warm, intense gaze on him while he spoke, as if he were the most fascinating individual in the universe. To feel like the sole focus of attention of so beautiful and intelligent a girl—small wonder he’d tumbled head over heels.

It hurt his heart to see how sadness had dimmed that glow. But though the fire might have burned low, embers remained. He felt compelled to give her the encouragement and opportunities that would fan those sparks to a blaze again.

Just this one short meeting proved to him it was possible. Offered his understanding and support, and the prospect of an evening away from her usual society duties, she had unconsciously straightened, her expression brighter, her smile warmer, while in her eyes, a guarded enthusiasm grew.

He couldn’t wait to see that progress continue, when she actually attended such a gathering.

He shouldn’t have made that remark about ‘stimulating’ her, though the desire coursing through him had been too strong for him to rescind it, inappropriate as it was. She’d been lovely enough, swaddled in her cape in the dimness of lamplight last night; upon seeing her in full daylight, in that grey gown that accented her curves and brought out the brilliance of her blue eyes, he would have to have been made of stone not to have wanted her more than ever. The slender beauty he’d loved for so long had grown into a powerfully alluring woman.

Though she’d not known how to reply to his suggestive remark, she hadn’t rebuffed him. Quite the contrary; leaning closer, her lips parting slightly, her gaze heating, he had read in her response that the passion he felt was reciprocated.

Probably not with the same intensity, he conceded. Still, he couldn’t help feeling a primal masculine satisfaction upon discovering that the lady he prized above all others found him attractive, both as a friend and as a man. But knowing that she would welcome his touch would also make it harder to hold under control a body already ravenous to taste her.

Because that absolutely could not happen. An affair between two individuals from such radically different levels of society was too delicious a piece of gossip not to eventually become known, no matter how careful they were about meeting. Much as he wanted her, he loved her more. He would not tarnish her honour—or his—with an affair that would make her the target of the malicious, or give her mother-in-law further reason to disparage her or question her fitness to bring up her sons.

Besides, an affair would never be enough for him. Having all of her for a time and then being forced to give her up would be unendurable.

Better to live with the ache he knew, re-establish their friendship, and use that position to enrich her life as best he could. Even if she would never be his, he wanted her to be happy.

Still not ready to return to the committee room, where he would have to banish Faith’s image and the memories of today’s meeting, he considered going back to Albany to write Lady Lyndlington a note. But then he’d have to wait upon her reply before he could communicate with Faith, and he didn’t want to wait.

Why not call upon his friend’s wife now? She would most likely be either at her town house in Upper Brook Street, or her father’s home in Cavendish Square.

Energised by the prospect of being able to move forward his scheme, Davie hurried to the hackney stand and engaged a jarvey to take him to Upper Brook Street.

* * *

To his relief, Lady Lyndlington was at home, although the butler informed him this wasn’t a day when she would normally receive guests. Insisting that he was close enough a friend of the master for that restriction not to apply to him, he persuaded the butler to convey him to the Blue Salon and to enquire whether her ladyship could spare him a few minutes.

Davie paced the parlour, too agitated to sit. He was certain his friend’s wife would take the Duchess under her wing, and impatient to learn when they could begin.

‘Davie, what a pleasant surprise,’ Lady Lyndlington said as she walked in, giving him her hands to kiss. ‘That is, everything is all right? Giles hasn’t suffered any injury—’

‘No, no, Giles is fine! I’m sorry if my sudden appearance worried you, Maggie. It’s just, I had a favour to ask, and since I was out, rather than send you a note, I thought I’d try to catch you at home and deliver the request in person.’

Her worried countenance relaxed as she waved him to a seat. ‘If it’s within my power, I would be happy to grant it. What do you need?’

‘I recently ran into—almost literally—an old friend. Faith Wellingford—you would know her as the Duchess of Ashedon.’

‘The Duchess? I didn’t know you were acquainted!’

‘She’s a cousin of my sponsor’s wife. We developed a friendship many years ago, when I first began working as secretary to Sir Edward, and she was visiting her cousin. We grew to be close, though of course, there was never any question of a warmer relationship between us. I’ve only seen her a few times since her marriage, and we’ve grown apart. But upon meeting her again, I was struck by how...unhappy she is.’

‘Having been married to Ashedon, I’m not surprised,’ Maggie said bluntly.

‘She wanted to know what I’d been doing, so I told her a bit about the Reform Bill. We used to have quite spirited discussions of politics. She seemed so intrigued, I asked if she would like to attend one of your political dinners. She was quite enthused by the idea, so I said I would approach you to ask for an invitation.’

‘Of course I will include her, if you think she would enjoy it.’

‘She has a lively mind, which apparently doesn’t get much use during her usual society functions. I do believe she would enjoy the debate.’

‘I will send her a card, then. And you, of course.’

‘Thank you, Maggie. I’ll be very grateful.’

Davie’s mind immediately moved to evaluating options for conveying the news to Faith. Should he send a note, asking her to meet him? Or just write, letting her know that an invitation from Maggie would be forthcoming?

Meeting her, of course, would be his preference, but...

‘How long have you loved her?’ Maggie’s quiet voice interrupted his racing thoughts.

Shocked, he jerked his gaze back, to find her regarding him, sympathy in her eyes. He considered for an instant returning a denial, but as she had just granted his rather odd request for help, there seemed little point in dissembling. ‘Since the moment I set eyes on her, I suppose,’ he admitted. ‘Is it so obvious?’

‘Probably not, unless one already suspected it.’ She smiled. ‘Leaving aside the fact that you seemed to be unusually concerned about the well-being of a lady who was merely a friend from long ago, your whole face lights up when you talk about her. There’s this intensity in your eyes, and an urgency in your words.’

He sighed. ‘I’ve been avoiding going back to the committee room for that very reason, suspecting I might not be able to hide that I’d seen her again. I’ll tell Giles privately, but the last thing I want is for Ben or Christopher to find out. They’ve harassed me enough over the years about my obsession with the “Unattainable One”.’

‘They all know about her?’

‘At some point, I had to explain why I was always turning Ben and Christopher down when they wanted to go carousing, or when Christopher offered to have his current lady find a friend for me.’

She nodded. ‘Better to remain alone, than be disappointed in yourself and your partner, when she can’t compare to your lady.’

‘Exactly!’ he cried, surprised and gratified to discover someone who understood. ‘No one else can compare. Coming upon her again unexpectedly, the difference was...shocking. As if I’d been living in a grey world under cloudy skies, and suddenly, the sun came out, painting everything with vivid colour. Not that I’ve found my life dull or purposeless up till now, I assure you. But she just makes things...different. More beautiful.’

‘I know. I lived in just such a dull world—before I found Giles to illumine it.’

He gave a rueful sigh. ‘Ben and Christopher keep insisting that if I really wanted to, I could forget her and turn my attention to someone more suitable. But just because one knows one can’t have something, that doesn’t mean one can make oneself stop wanting it.’

‘I know. I am sorry.’

‘Don’t be. Loving her is an old ache, and I’ve known from the beginning that nothing could ever come from it. A penniless farmer’s orphan does not marry the well-dowered daughter of a family whose ancestors came over with the Conquest.’

‘And why should the daughter of an ancient family be valued any higher than a commoner who, by his own efforts, has risen to a position of power?’

He smiled at her. ‘That sounds like Lord Grey and the Friends of the People. Has Giles been converting you?’

‘I should hope I always appreciate individuals for what they themselves accomplish, not for their pedigree. However, you...you do not intend to attempt more than rekindling a friendship, do you?’

He didn’t pretend not to understand her. ‘No. I wouldn’t tarnish her honour—or mine—by attempting an affair. Goodness knows, nothing more is possible.’

She sighed. ‘It makes me sound a terrible snob, after just stating how much I value you—and I do, you are worth ten of her wretched Duke!—I have to agree. Hadley’s Hellions are doing their best to make the world a more equitable place, but we are nowhere close to being a society that would react to a duchess’s remarriage to a commoner with anything but shock and derision. Not so much for you, of course. But for her... I never had any desire to move in the late Duke’s circle, but like most of society, I heard enough of his exploits—and the falsely sweet “sympathy” expressed for his “poor little Duchess”. She’s suffered enough. I’d not be a party to anything that would bring more scorn upon her, or result in her permanent banishment from society.’

‘I assure you, all I wish is to offer her is the chance to meet other individuals from her own rank, whose company she may find more interesting and fulfilling than the endless rounds of idle society parties she told me she’s come to hate.’

‘With all the snide remarks her husband’s infidelities must have forced her to endure, I can understand why she detests them. Just promise me you won’t complicate her situation. She has already had enough to bear, married to Ashedon all those years.’

‘That’s an easy promise to give. I want to lighten her burden, not make it heavier.’

‘In that case, I shall be delighted to include her in the dinner I’m planning for next Friday. Giles and Papa are assembling some men of less radical views, with the hope of building a moderate coalition that will see the Reform Bill passed more swiftly. I’ll send her a card. And one to you as well.’

‘Thank you, Maggie. I very much appreciate it. I think you’ll like the Duchess, and I know she will enjoy your gathering.’

‘I hope you will as well.’ She looked at him, her face troubled. ‘You did me a very good turn once, bringing me back to the man I loved. I only wish I could conjure a magic spell, so I might create as favourable a result for you.’

‘Helping Faith is the best thing you can do for me.’

‘I’ll do all I can.’ She walked him to the door, halting on the threshold to give him a kiss on the cheek. ‘Have a care for yourself, too, Davie. As I know only too well, hearts can break more than once.’

‘But only once for the same person,’ he replied, and walked out.

He certainly hoped so, anyway.

* * *

In the afternoon two days later, having received a note from Davie informing her that Lady Lyndlington would be sending her a card of invitation for a dinner the following Friday, Faith ordered a hackney and went to pay a call on her erstwhile hostess. She’d suffered the expected dressing-down from the Dowager over her dinner-party flight—and her absence from the obligatory drive in the Park the next day—in a silence meek enough not to call down more criticism on her head. She felt safe enough attempting this errand; as Davie had said, even the high-in-the-instep Dowager couldn’t fault her calling on the daughter of a marquess.

Knowing how persuasive Davie the politician could be, she wanted to assure herself that Lady Lyndlington truly wished to include her in the gathering...and to discover whether she would feel comfortable enough with her hostess to want to attend.

In the early years of their marriage, Ashedon had done a very effective job in isolating her, distancing her from her family while at the same time actively discouraging her developing friendships with anyone else. At the time, still radiantly in love and certain of his love in return, she’d been too preoccupied trying to learn the duties required of the mistress of numerous properties and a multitude of servants, then waylaid by a succession of pregnancies and the delight of newborns, to fully realise just how alone she’d become.

But as the boys grew and her husband’s attentions dwindled, she’d become only too aware that she had virtually no friends of her age and class. The society women in whose company she often found herself all seemed to have already established circles of friendship, which were not interested in admitting any newcomers. And even if they had, most of the members were either indifferent to or contemptuous of the country life and activities that she prized so much more highly than the idle amusements of London.

She could tell that Davie admired Lady Lyndlington, and she valued his opinion. But a man’s view of a woman could be very different from one woman’s view of another. Would this marquess’s daughter, with her superior intellect and expertise in politics, hide beneath polite words the same contemptuous pity for simple little Faith Wellingford that made her association with other sophisticated ladies of the ton so unpleasant?

The carriage slowed to a halt, the footman coming over to open the door and hand her down. Heading to the front steps of the Upper Brook Street town house, Faith took a deep breath, suppressing out of long habit a too-often disappointed hope. One way or another, she was about to find out.

The butler showed her into an elegant room done in the Adam style in shades of white and blue. Several bookcases stood against one wall, filled with a variety of volumes. Perusing the shelves to discover several plays and novels she had enjoyed, Faith felt a renewal of the hope she’d tried to squelch.

Perhaps Lady Lyndlington might be someone of similar interests after all.

A moment later, the lady herself entered. ‘Duchess, how kind of you to call! I do hope you didn’t do so to convey your regrets for the Friday night gathering! I’m very much looking forward to becoming better acquainted. Davie—Mr Smith—is my husband’s closest friend, and we both have a very high regard for him—and for anyone of whom he speaks with as much warmth and respect as he did of you.’

‘He is very kind.’

‘Indeed. Would you take tea?’

‘If I wouldn’t be imposing, or taking you away from other duties.’

‘Not at all. I should like it very much.’

As would I, Faith thought, her cautious optimism increasing as her hostess rang the bell pull and informed the butler to bring refreshments. She’d spoken briefly with Lady Lyndlington at several society balls, among a crush of other attendees, but meeting her here in her own parlour, she was immediately drawn by her warm, open friendliness.

She’d already seen enough to decide she could safely accept the dinner invitation. She’d try not to hope for more.

‘I understand you’ve known Mr Smith since you were very young,’ her hostess said as she took a seat on the sofa.

‘Yes, before I even made my come-out. I was spending the summer with my cousin, and Mr Smith had come to serve as secretary to her husband.’ Faith gestured to the bookshelves. ‘After dinner one night, we found ourselves both in the library, searching for a book. Which led to a discussion about favourite authors that lasted the rest of the evening. After that, we met in the afternoons when he’d finished his work, and talked or rode. I’d read him poetry; he’d tell me about history and politics and his plans for the future—to become a parliamentarian, and help to change the government of the nation. He was so...intelligent, and caring, and full of conviction! I’d never met anyone like him.’

Lady Lyndlington smiled. ‘It sounds as if he hasn’t changed very much. He’s still intelligent, caring and full of conviction.’

He’s changed in one way, Faith thought, conversation lapsing as the butler brought in the tea tray. The romantic young hero has become a compellingly attractive man.

‘Yes, he seems much the same as I remember,’ she continued after Lady Lyndlington handed her a cup. ‘Foolishly, I suppose, I expected we would maintain our friendship over the years. But of course, once I married and he began his career we...didn’t see each other very often.’

‘I expect not. Running such a large household, a duchess must have many duties.’

Declining to correct that erroneous assumption, she said, ‘Mr Smith tells me that you’ve managed your father’s household for years, and arrange his political dinners. How fascinating it must be, to literally have a seat at the table of power as matters of national interest are discussed!’

Lady Lyndlington laughed. ‘Along with a smattering of gossip and personal anecdotes. But you are right; it is stimulating. Not that I did anything special to deserve being so blessed, other than having the good fortune to be born my father’s daughter. I do hope you will find the evening enjoyable.’

‘I’m sure I shall! I expect to do no more than listen, which I hope will be acceptable. What’s the old saying—‘Better to be silent and be thought foolish, than to speak and remove all doubt’? I shall refrain from displaying my ignorance!’

‘Listening to the discussions, you will soon have a fairly accurate picture of what’s transpiring. Please, feel free to ask questions! Coming into the debates with no preconceived ideas, you will have a fresh perspective that could be most helpful.’

‘Well, I don’t know about that, but I shall certainly listen most carefully.’

‘The discussions often become quite lively—and I hope they will be, for there’s no cards, or singing, or other entertainment. I would hate to bore you on your very first evening with us.’

‘I don’t care at all for gaming, and I shall be quite content to listen to intelligent discussion of issues that matter, rather than the snide, biting comments that so often form much of the conversation.’ She shrugged. ‘Perhaps because I have been so often the subject of them.’

Lady Lyndlington frowned. ‘Surely people are not disrespectful to a duchess!’

‘Oh, no, they are obsequious—to my face.’ Perhaps it was the ready sympathy she read in the other woman’s expression, but once she’d started, Faith couldn’t seem to keep herself from adding bitterly, ‘But I often “overhear” comments made, I’m sure, deliberately just within my hearing. About what a poor little dab of a thing I am, how it’s no wonder, after getting his heirs on me, my husband looked elsewhere. And now that my mother-in-law has moved back in, I am treated daily to a recital of all the ways in which I fall short of being worthy of the high position I occupy.’

‘I feel so fortunate in my family, who have supported me through the worst of times!’ Lady Lyndlington shook her head. ‘I’m so sorry you haven’t experienced that, and I wish I could protest that most in society are kind. But as I know only too well, many are not.’

Faith grimaced. ‘They seem to assume I don’t have the wit, or the courage, to toss back some biting response. I could answer in kind. I just don’t want to. Isn’t there enough heartache and cruelty in the world, without deliberately adding to it?’

Impulsively, her hostess seized her hand. ‘I so agree! And I understand more than you know. Before I met Giles, after being a widow for several years, I began to think about remarrying. I’d been acting as Papa’s hostess for some time, and had a number of interested suitors. Sadly, having married my childhood best friend, I was completely naïve, never questioning that the admiration a man expressed might be due more to my wealth and family connections than to the charms of my person.’

‘Now that, I cannot believe!’ Faith protested.

‘Believe it,’ Lady Lyndlington said with surprising bitterness. ‘One particularly ardent suitor, who had political aspirations my father’s support could assist, convinced me of his love, and I persuaded myself I returned his regard. Just before we were to wed, I discovered that he maintained a little love-nest where he continued to entertain chère-amies. Apparently I was the only one in London who didn’t know about it. I broke the engagement, but you can imagine the titters behind fans and malicious comments I “overheard”. But you may know this already; it was quite the on dit.’

Hardly believing so lovely, confident, and intelligent a lady could have been subject to such treatment, Faith said, ‘I didn’t know. So you truly do understand.’

‘Yes. By the way, I did, quite inadvertently, discover a way to respond to the malicious that did not require descending to the same level as the speaker. Soon after the...incident, I overhead a comment that so infuriated me, I couldn’t utter a word. I simply turned and stared at the perpetrator, as if she were a worm I’d discovered on one of my prize roses and intended to crush. She ended up looking away first, and never bothered me again. The technique worked so well, I used it on several other occasions during that awful time, to good effect.’ She patted Faith’s hand. ‘I recommend the tactic.’

Faith had to smile. ‘As a marquess’s daughter, you were probably born to it, but I doubt I could manage the “look”. Papa lost all our money when I was still so young, I grew up with no expectations of making a grand match, more comfortable climbing trees and riding in my brother’s old breeches than mastering curtsies and clever drawing-room conversation. But thank you. I’m sure I’ll have occasions I could try out the technique, whether or not I can carry it off.’

Lady Lyndlington nodded. ‘Practise it in front of your glass. I did.’

At the idea of this elegant lady practising set-down looks in a mirror, Faith had to laugh out loud. ‘No! I don’t believe it!’

‘Oh, it’s true. I’d remember the remark that so incensed me, and look into the mirror until I perfected an expression that should have made the glass shatter and vaporise into dust. You must try it.’

Subsiding with a giggle, Faith set aside her cup. ‘Perhaps I will. But now, I’ve taken up enough of your time.’

She rose, and her hostess rose with her. ‘You will come to dinner on Friday?’

‘Yes. I shall be looking forward to it.’

‘Excellent. I think we should be friends. After all, we principled ladies must stick together.’

Drinking in the warmth and encouragement like a wilted plant responds to water, Faith could almost feel her withered optimism and trampled hope begin to stir. ‘That would please me very much.’

‘Until Friday, then.’

After an exchange of curtsies, the ladies parted, Faith returning to her carriage with more anticipation for the future than she’d felt in years

Bless Davie! Not only had he given her a stimulating evening to look forward to, he might have steered her towards something she hadn’t had since she’d been distanced from her sisters.

A close female friend.

If only she could keep them both.


Chapter Four (#ulink_67960e6e-9e9c-560e-b44f-d55bce24dd1e)

On Friday night, Davie arrived early at Lord Witlow’s town house, already so energised at the idea of seeing Faith again, he’d been more or less worthless in committee that afternoon. Once or twice he’d seen Giles send an appraising look in his direction, from which he’d turned away without acknowledgement. But, arriving as far in advance of the appointed hour, he knew that sooner or later his hostess’s husband was going to take him to task.

Lord Witlow’s butler showed him to the Blue Drawing Room, remarking with a touch of reproach as he directed him to the wine decanter on the sideboard, that, it being so far in advance of the hour for dinner, the host and hostess had not yet come down. Chuckling at that veiled set-down about his poor manners, Davie began pacing the handsome chamber, trying to dispel some of his nervous excitement and anticipation.

As luck would have it, the first to join him in the drawing room was Giles. The look of enquiry on his friend’s face told him that he was about to be taken to task for his renewed interest in ‘the Unattainable’.

Considering that he’d volunteered a few judicious words of caution to his mostly unappreciative friend when Giles was first pursuing Maggie, he figured it was only fair that he suffer Giles’s comments with good grace. Particularly as he knew whatever Giles might say would stem from a genuine concern for his welfare.

‘So, Maggie tells me that you asked her to invite the Duchess of Ashedon to our little gathering?’ Giles asked, confirming Davie’s expectations.

‘Yes. I ran into her unexpectedly a week or so ago. She still...hasn’t found her feet since the death of her husband, and seemed very low. Years ago, when we first met, she had a lively interest in politics. I thought attending this evening would help draw her out of grief, and let her focus on something other than her own cares for an evening.’

‘From what Maggie tells me about the character of the late Duke, I doubt the Duchess is experiencing very much grief.’

‘More like regret for what might have been, probably,’ Davie admitted, advancing to the wine decanter on the sideboard. ‘I understand the Duke...frequently availed himself of the company of other women, particularly after the Duchess had borne him several sons to secure the succession.’ Choosing two glasses, he poured them each some wine.

‘Now that I’ve reconciled with my father and been more or less forced to attend ton gatherings, I’ve had to listen to a lot of gossipy rubbish,’ Giles said, accepting the glass from Davie. ‘One bit, from that fribble Darrow, said the late Duke met his demise while attempting to...copulate with his current doxy while racing his high-perch phaeton. A drunken wager, apparently.’

Shocked, Davie froze, the wine glass halfway to his lips. ‘The devil he did!’ he exclaimed a moment later. Faith told him she’d never enjoyed the attention paid to a duchess. Especially as Ashedon and his women provided so much scandal for society to watch my reaction to. How embarrassing and degrading it must have been to face down that bit of salacious gossip! ‘I hadn’t heard. Poor F—poor Duchess.’

‘Not much to lament about the passing of such a man,’ Giles said acerbically.

‘I don’t believe he ever truly cared for her,’ Davie said, trying to mask the anger that fact always aroused in him. To have been able to claim the beauty and innocence and joy that was Faith, and not appreciate it, was stupidity of such colossal proportions he could never forgive it.

Why couldn’t that gift have been tendered to a man who would have treasured it? Not him, of course—it could never have been him—but surely there was some man of suitable birth and station who could have loved her and made her happy.

At least now she was free of the husband who hadn’t. He squelched the little flare of excitement that resonated through him. Free, maybe, but not for you.

Ah, but a man could dream, couldn’t he?

He surfaced from that thought to find Giles frowning at him. ‘Maggie told me two days ago that you’d asked her to invite the Duchess tonight, so I made sure Ben and Christopher were occupied elsewhere. You ought to tell them, before they find out from some other source, that you’re...involving yourself in her life again. I’ll make sure they don’t harass you about it. But...be careful, Davie. Don’t let yourself hope too much from this.’

‘I’m not!’ he assured Giles—and maybe himself? ‘If I can help her break free from the unhappiness of her life with Ashedon that will be enough.’

‘Will it?’ Giles asked, giving him a penetrating glance. ‘I’m not sure how much she can “free” herself from that life. Don’t forget, Davie, she’s a rich widow, her oldest son now the Duke, her minor children protected by a trust. Her family may well have further plans for her.’

A fierce protectiveness rose in him as the austere, disapproving face of the Dowager surfaced in his mind. ‘As long as she has a say in making those plans, rather than have them imposed on her.’

‘As long as you remember it’s not your place to determine that.’

‘I just want to stand her friend. She has few enough of them.’

‘Well, here comes one who should be.’

Davie looked over as a tall, well-dressed gentleman entered the parlour. ‘Englemere,’ Giles said, walking over to shake the Marquess’s hand. ‘Good to see you. Perhaps tonight we can make some progress on hammering out that coalition.’

‘I hope so,’ the Marquess replied. ‘If your lovely wife has anything to do with it, there will certainly be a lively discussion. Good evening, Mr Smith. You’ll add your voice of reason to that debate, I’m sure.’

‘Always,’ Davie answered, reaching out to shake the hand the Marquess offered. He owed a great deal to Englemere, the best friend of his sponsor, Sir Edward Greaves, and one of his backers for his Parliamentary seat, and respected him even more. Did the Marquess know his sister-in-law was going to be present this evening? he wondered.

Almost before he’d completed the thought, the lady in question appeared at the doorway as the butler intoned, ‘The Duchess of Ashedon.’

For a moment, everything in Davie’s world halted while he took in the loveliness that was Faith. Her gown, a lavender confection of lace and silk, hugged her tiny waist and moulded itself over her rounded bosom in a way his hands itched to trace. Her golden hair, pinned up in an elaborate arrangement of curls, made him yearn to rake his fingers through it, freeing the heavy mass to cascade around her shoulders, as it had when she was a girl. She wore only simple diamond drops in her ears, the soft expanse of bared skin and shoulders rising above the bodice of her gown her only other adornment.

She married the look of the angel she’d always been with the allure of a siren. Davie wasn’t sure which was more powerful—the ache of his love for her, or the burn of desire.

While he simply watched her, spellbound, Englemere answered his question as he paced forward to take her hand. ‘Faith! What a delightful surprise! I didn’t know you would be here tonight. How are you? It’s been far too long.’

He took her hands, and Faith leaned up to give him a kiss on the cheek. ‘Lady Lyndlington was kind enough to invite me. I didn’t know you’d be here either, Nicky. How lovely to see you! How is Sarah?’

‘Still carefully nursing Elizabeth, our youngest, who was very ill with a congestion of the lungs last winter. Gave me quite a scare, I have to admit. With Lizzie so slow to regain her strength, I wanted her out of the noise and smoke of the city, so I’ve taken a house near Highgate Village, with a large garden for her to walk in and fresh country air to breathe. If you have time, I know Sarah would love to have you call.’

‘Fresh country air? How Sarah must love that, and...and I would, too. I will try to visit her, Nicky.’ She raised her chin, almost defiantly, Davie thought. ‘We’ve grown apart, and I’d like to rectify that.’

‘As would we,’ Englemere said, giving her hands a squeeze before releasing them. ‘But I mustn’t monopolise you. You know Lyndlington? And Mr Smith, of course.’

‘My lord,’ she said, making a curtsy first to Giles, then to him.

‘Duchess,’ he said, taking the hand she offered. Savouring the contact, he retained her fingers for as long as he could without exciting comment before forcing himself to release them. To his delight, she gave his hand a brief squeeze as he let hers go.

‘Who else can I expect to see tonight, my lord?’ she asked Giles.

‘Elder statesman and your host’s political sponsor, Lord Coopley, whom I’m sure you know. Lord Howlett, another member of Witlow’s Tory coalition in the Lords. Two of my Reform MP colleagues, Richard Rowleton and John Percy.’

‘I’m acquainted with all of them,’ she said, her apprehensive smile steadying. ‘Particularly Lord Coopley. He used to take Ashedon to task about his behaviour, which annoyed my husband exceedingly.’

Bravo for the baron, Davie thought. Counting on his age, lineage and position to protect him from retribution for criticising a gentleman of higher rank? Or too principled and courageous to care?

Laughing, Englemere said, ‘I’m sure it did, though I wager Ashedon didn’t choose to respond. Coopley has never shrunk from calling a spade a spade, and he’s too intelligent—and belligerent—for most men to willingly argue with him.’

‘As I’ve experienced on several occasions, when promoting ideas he does not favour,’ Giles inserted wryly. ‘But you mustn’t worry, Duchess. Lady Lyndlington has you seated beside her father, and near Mr Smith, so you’ll have a dinner partner you know well to chat with.’

‘And to assist me, I hope!’ Faith replied, darting a look at Davie, to which he returned an encouraging nod.

‘I doubt you’ll need any assistance, but Mr Smith will certainly provide it, if necessary,’ Giles said. Then his eyes lighting, he said, ‘Here’s my wife and her father! Excuse me, please.’

Davie watched Faith, who was watching the alacrity with which Giles hurried to meet his wife, giving her a kiss on the cheek and murmuring a few words that made her blush. Sadness washed over her face, and he saw the shimmer of tears in her eyes.

‘They look very close,’ she said. ‘How wonderful for them.’

‘They’re all April and May, like two young lovers. Ben, Christopher and I heckle Giles all the time about it.’

Just then, the butler announced the arrival of the other guests Giles had mentioned. Spotting her, Lord Coopley walked over to Faith.

‘How kind of you, Maggie, to invite another beauty for an old man to talk with!’ he exclaimed, making Faith a courtly bow.

‘You are very kind, my lord,’ Faith replied. ‘But I intend to do more listening than talking.’

‘Nonsense, say whatever you like—I know it will be clever!’ As Giles and Davie exchanged startled looks—both well aware how merciless the baron often was to inexperienced souls who dared venture opinions about the political topics that obsessed him—the old gentleman added, ‘Always enjoyed chatting with you, my girl. Talked about books and horses and hunting. Right fancied you for my eldest, before Ashedon swept you away. Would have made you happier.’

As a blush of embarrassment tinted Faith’s cheeks at that too-frank assessment, Lady Lyndlington inserted smoothly, ‘Since we all know each other so well, we can dispense with formal introductions. Shall we proceed to table? Lord Coopley, will you escort me in, before I succumb to jealousy over your attentions to the Duchess?’

Chuckling, the older man clasped the arm she extended. ‘Of course, Maggie! You know you’ll always be first in my heart. The daughter I never had, much as both your papa and I might have wished you’d been a son who could have carried on our work in the Lords.’

‘Oh, but I provided you a magnificent husband to take that place,’ she teased.

Since as the leader of Reform, Giles was the man to whom the baron was most often opposed, her remark earned a laugh from the entire assembly.

‘Minx,’ Coopley reproved, wagging a finger at her. ‘If I thought he could be seduced into it, I’d send him off in a horse cart with a doxy.’

‘No chance of that,’ Lady Lyndlington flashed back. ‘If I thought he could be seduced into it, I’d murder him first.’

Davie watched Faith anxiously, but rather than causing her additional distress, the light-hearted remarks touching on her late husband’s ignominious demise drew the group’s attention away from her, giving her a chance to recover her composure. Before he could add a quick word of encouragement, Lord Witlow walked over to claim her arm.

‘I’m so pleased you joined us this evening, Duchess,’ he said with a warm smile. ‘My daughter tells me you are quite interested in the work we’re now doing in Parliament, so I trust we won’t bore you this evening.’

‘Oh, no, my lord! I’m sure I will be informed and—’ she shot Davie a mischievous glance ‘—stimulated.’

At her words, the arousal he’d been trying to ignore hardened further. Devil’s teeth, but he needed to master the always simmering, ever-increasing desire her nearness evoked! Concentrate on making sure she feels comfortable and included, he instructed himself.

‘I hope so,’ the Marquess said as he led Faith into the dining room. ‘My Maggie lives and breathes politics, but she’s never had a female friend who shared that passion. She’s thrilled to find that you have an interest. You must come visit us more often—even if, as I expect, your association with Mr Smith would have you favouring the Reform agenda. With my daughter now married to a reformer, I shall be beset on all sides!’

‘Mr Smith and I used to debate politics, but that was many years ago. As you know, the late Duke was not politically inclined, so I know much too little about the bill under consideration to “beset” anyone with my opinions,’ Faith said as her host seated her.

‘You’ve come to the right dinner party, then,’ Lord Coopley remarked from his end of the table. ‘With these rum customers present—’ he gestured to Giles and the Reform MPs ‘—you’ll hear every point of view, worthless as some may be.’

‘I trust, my lord,’ Giles said, taking a seat adjacent to Coopley, ‘we shall eventually hammer out a compromise even you can agree with.’

‘Are they always at loggerheads?’ Faith murmured over her shoulder to Davie, who had followed her in protectively and halted beside her chair.

‘Always, though now that Giles has married his friend Witlow’s daughter, Coopley isn’t quite so brutal,’ Davie replied softly. ‘Giles used to feel lucky to return to our rooms with his skin intact.’

‘I know so little about the discussion tonight,’ she said, once again sounding apprehensive. Impulsively, she reached out to touch his hand. ‘You will help me, so I don’t make a complete fool of myself?’

Davie’s toes curled in his shoes as he resisted the to desire to link his fingers with hers. ‘You could never do that. But if you get confused, send me a look. I’ll insert some explanation. Don’t worry—you’ll be fine.’

She gave him a tremulous smile. ‘Thank you, Davie. You’re always so kind.’

Though, as the highest-ranking woman present, Faith was seated as was proper beside their host, Davie was surprised to find their hostess had indeed fudged protocol by placing a commoner adjacent to her, rather than further down the table. As he looked at Maggie with a lift of his brows, she smiled and said, ‘As a Member of Parliament, you should rank with the others. And besides, isn’t the ranking of men based on their talents, not their birth, a tenet of your beliefs?’

‘Humph.’ Coopley sniffed. ‘An excuse to give any upstart with a glib tongue the power to agitate the rabble! Though in fairness, I must grudgingly agree that Mr Smith possesses considerable talent.’

‘Far more than some men of exalted rank,’ Giles observed.

Coopley gave a bark of laughter. ‘Far more than the one we mentioned earlier tonight, that’s for certain! No matter, we’ll tend you now, girl,’ he said, turning to Faith. ‘Only sorry I don’t have any unmarried sons to send courting.’

Much as he’d wanted her to have a husband who appreciated her, Davie felt an immediate stab of protest at the idea of Faith marrying again. Please Heaven, not yet. Not until...what future could he possibly envision?

‘I don’t need that sort of “tending”,’ Faith was replying, the blush returning to her cheek. ‘I’m not even out of mourning yet.’

‘Not much to mourn for,’ the irrepressible baron declared. ‘Ah, here’s the first course. Always know there will be fine food on your table, my dear!’ he said to his hostess. ‘Need to fortify myself before the hard bargaining starts.’

For a time, as the various courses came and went, conversation was general. Davie ate little and talked less, his attention focused on Faith. Urged on by their skilful host, she was induced to talk about her sons, a topic about which she soon became animated, describing them and asking the Marquess’s advice about their upbringing.

‘I would certainly recommend getting them into the country more,’ Lord Witlow replied to her question. ‘Never too young for the little Duke to start learning about his land and tenants. Though I regret he never developed an interest in politics, I’m proud of the work my son Esterbrook has done on our estate, which he began running when he was still a boy. Besides his duty to Parliament, there’s nothing more important than a landlord’s care of his land.’

‘I would like to get Edward to Ashedon Court more often, but now that the Dowager has moved back with us, it’s no easier than when her son was living. Both much prefer staying in town.’

‘Take them on your own, then,’ the Marquess advised. ‘They no longer have a father whose permission you must secure, and I imagine the trustees will approve any decisions you make about their care that seem reasonable.’

‘I really may?’ Faith asked, her eyes lighting. ‘I would love that! Although we visited so seldom, I know almost as little about Ashedon Court as my sons.’

‘Time to learn more,’ Witlow said.

‘Might have a care, though,’ Coopley added from his end of the table. ‘It’s a hotbed of radicals, from Liverpool and Manchester, out into Derbyshire and Nottinghamshire.’

‘Is that a problem?’ Faith asked.

‘Those are the cities and the areas that currently have no, or limited, representation in Parliament,’ Davie explained. ‘Over the years, there have been demonstrations and protests.’

‘Riots and destruction of property, more like,’ Coopley countered. ‘Depending on how close Ashedon Court is to the disturbances, I could see why your late husband might not have wanted to install his family there. Though proximity to his London doxies rather than his family’s safety is more likely the reason for his remaining in town,’ he added, mirroring thoughts Davie wouldn’t have been tactless enough to voice.

Apparently armoured now against the baron’s bluntness, Faith barely blushed. ‘Mr Smith told me the new industrial cities of the north, having not existed when Parliamentary districts were drawn up in medieval times, were among those most vocal in calling for revamping the way Members are chosen. There were also towns and districts from that old assessment who now have very little population, yet retain their representatives, aren’t there?’

‘Exactly,’ Rowleton, one of the Reform MPs, said. ‘For instance, Dunwich has thirty-two voters, Camelford twenty-five, Gatton seven, yet each of these send two representatives to Parliament. While Liverpool and Manchester, with thousands of souls, send none! It’s a travesty we must address, and the Reform Bill does.’

‘Perhaps, but you would take away votes from some districts that have always had them,’ the Tory, Lord Howlett, said. ‘That’s not just, either.’

Normally, Davie would have launched into the discussion himself, but tonight, he was much more interested in watching Faith, her eyes sparkling, her lips curving into a smile as she followed the banter and debating points being scored up and down the table.

* * *

All too soon for his liking, the meal ended, brandy was brought in, and Lady Lyndlington rose. ‘Before anyone comes to fisticuffs, we ladies shall leave you gentlemen to sort out the details. Duchess?’

‘A fascinating discussion, which I am so pleased you allowed me to witness,’ Faith said. ‘I can now claim to be much more knowledgeable about the great work going forward.’

‘Yes, and you can warn those drawing-room idlers like your late husband that they need to get their lazy arses to the Lords,’ Coopley added. ‘Find out what is going on, with the most important decisions to be made in four hundred years about to voted on! A crusty old curmudgeon like me couldn’t persuade them half so easily as a lovely and eloquent lass.’

‘I appreciate your confidence, my lord,’ Faith said. ‘I shall certainly do my possible to encourage every peer to attend.’

At Lord Coopley’s endorsement, Davie could almost see Faith’s self-confidence grow. More appreciative of the crotchety old gentleman than he’d ever been previously, Davie felt as proud as an anxious tutor whose student has just passed a difficult exam. How right he’d been to encourage Faith to attend this gathering!

How sad he was that the ladies were about to withdraw, ending this special evening with her. But there was no way he could leave now and escort her home without arousing a great deal of unwanted speculation.

‘Will you stay for tea, Duchess?’ their hostess was asking as Faith walked over to meet her.

‘No, I should return to my boys.’

‘Then I shall retire as well. Shall I have Rains summon your carriage?’

‘He could have a footman find me a hackney. The Dowager was using the carriage tonight.’

‘Ah, I see. I’ll have him get your wrap. Mr Smith, would you be kind enough to keep the Duchess company until her hackney arrives? I’m sure these gentlemen could spare you for a few minutes.’

Davie’s gaze shot to his hostess, who gave him a quick wink. ‘I’d be honoured. Duchess?’ He offered Faith his arm, stifling the sigh of delight that nearly hissed through his teeth when she laid her hand on it.

As he led Faith out behind their hostess, Giles gave him a concerned look, Coopley a questioning one. After the courtesy of farewells, however, the other gentlemen ignored them, becoming consumed once again by their debate.

* * *

‘Thank you, Maggie,’ he whispered to his hostess a short time later, while the butler was assisting Faith into her evening cloak. ‘For dinner, and this.’

She nodded, but her look was speculating and her eyes were sad. ‘Just remember your promise. Friendship only.’

‘Friendship,’ he repeated, even as his traitorous body stirred and hardened. Memories of holding her flashed through his head—the softness of her body against his, her golden hair under his cheek—and sent desire spiralling.

The butler exited to order the hackney, Faith walked back to them, and their hostess turned to her. ‘I’m so pleased you enjoyed the evening, Duchess. I hope you will join us for many more—and call here often. There is work we can do together!’

‘I would like that very much. But you must call me Faith, then.’

‘I would be honoured! And you must call me Maggie, as Mr Smith, does.’

‘I, too, would be honoured by your friendship.’

Maggie nodded. ‘That’s settled. I’ll bid you both goodnight—and count on seeing you both again soon!’

With that, bows and curtsies were exchanged, and Maggie ascended the staircase, leaving him alone with her.

How to best use these precious few minutes?

A radiant smile on her face, Faith stepped nearer. It took every bit of self-control he could muster not to close the distance between them and take her in his arms. Or at least, take her hands in his.

Somehow, he made himself stop. The mere inches of air separating them vibrated with sensual tension, making his heart pound so hard in his chest, he thought surely she could hear it.

Slowly, while he gritted his teeth with the effort to remain motionless, she reached out a hand and gently stroked his cheek. ‘Thank you for tonight, my sweet Davie,’ she murmured. ‘I haven’t felt so...energised, and appreciated, and alive, since...’

Since I held you in my arms a week ago, he thought, consumed with the need to take her again. But he’d promised...something.

‘Well—for a long time,’ she finished. She went up on tiptoe, and for an instant, he had the wild hope that she would kiss him again, as she had when he’d escorted her home that night. Then, as if realising how inadvisable that was, she returned to her feet.

For long, endless moments, they stood frozen, staring at each other from a hand’s breadth apart. He devoured with his gaze every curve and angle of her sweet face, every plump contour of the lips he hungered so much to taste, the desire pulsing through him stronger than he’d ever experienced.

And then, with a little sigh, she angled her head up, offering her lips, her eyes drifting closed, as if she were as helpless to resist the force between them as he was.

Heaven knew what idiocy he might have committed, had the butler not chosen that moment to stomp back in, announcing the arrival of her hackney.

The man’s voice sent a shock through him, and they both stepped back. ‘Your hackney, Duchess,’ he repeated inanely, seized by a looming sense of loss.

‘When will I see you again?’ she whispered, voicing the thought that consumed him.

‘Perhaps...perhaps,’ he replied, thinking rapidly, ‘I could escort you to visit your sister, in Highgate. Englemere doesn’t come to town every day, I imagine. I could...bring him some committee reports.’

‘Yes!’ she said, her eyes lighting with enthusiasm. ‘I would like that.’

‘Bring your boys, too. They could become acquainted with their cousins.’

‘Witlow said I should be able to take them where I like, now that I don’t need their father’s permission. When shall we go?’

‘Arrange what is convenient for you, and send me a note.’

She nodded eagerly. ‘I will. Tonight was wonderful! Thank you again.’ With a glance towards the waiting butler at the open front door, she said, ‘Goodbye, Davie. I’m so glad I’ll be seeing you again.’

‘Make it soon.’

‘I will.’ She turned to leave, hesitated, then gave his hand a squeeze before hurrying over to the door.

As she disappeared into the night, Davie raised his hand, inhaling her faint scent of lavender. The skin she’d touched still sparked and tingled, the aftermath of a desire so powerful he’d almost done something foolish and irreparable.

It shook him to realise how swiftly being with her, alone, had unravelled his control.

Maybe it wasn’t wise to see her again, lest his hold over himself crumble altogether, leading him to commit some irreversible act that would tarnish his honour and hers and sever for good this tenuous revival of their friendship.

And yet... With her sons along to play chaperone, they wouldn’t be alone on the road to Highgate. After they arrived, she’d most likely be closeted with her sister, while he could discuss the latest compromise position with Englemere, focusing his mind on business and away from her enchanting face. With her within the protective embrace of her family, there would be no opportunity for passion to get out of hand; he’d be able to enjoy the delight of her company without fearing for his sanity or his honour.

Besides, he knew in the depths of his soul that he could never stop himself from seeing her unless she herself forbade it.


Chapter Five (#ulink_cbe90959-b968-54e2-9865-fd9ec4120472)

Faith’s euphoria buoyed her through the short hackney ride back home. She hadn’t felt so energised, challenged, and alive since the early days of her marriage—before she discovered what a tragic farce her dreams of being loved and cherished had become. To attend a society function and meet encouragement and appreciation, rather than smug or pitying glances, made it seem as if she’d suddenly emerged from the dark room of isolation and sadness in which she’d been trapped for so long into a glorious dawn of new possibilities.

And then there was that thrilling, titillating connection with Davie. How could so strong a bond re-establish itself so quickly with a man she’d seen only half a dozen times over the last ten years?

She couldn’t thank him enough for this evening, where he’d stood beside her, encouraging with a glance, assisting with a helpful comment, supporting her with his silent presence. And always, simmering underneath—until it had nearly erupted into action in Witlow’s front hall—was the powerful physical link that seemed to strengthen each time they were together.

How could she find words to thank him for the sense he gave her of being attractive, desirable, and wanted, nurturing her crushed and battered spirit to a renewed confidence? His obvious desire unleashed an unprecedented, heady sense of feminine power—and an urge to use that power to satisfy the increasing demands of desire.

Ah, yes, desire. Having endured so many years of unhappiness made her a little reckless. She’d never be permitted to marry a man like Davie—if marriage were in fact on his mind, which it probably wasn’t. Lust certainly was, as it was on hers.

Dare she yield to it? Would he let her?

She didn’t know. Continuing to associate with him would lead her into a maze full of risks and dangerous choices—but also to the possibility of fulfilment, even joy. She wasn’t prepared yet to decide whether to proceed down that path. For the present, she’d seize every opportunity to be with him, and just enjoy.

Make it soon.

She’d write a note to Sarah this very night, seeking a convenient time for a visit.

Still aglow with energy and optimism, she sprang down from the hackney and waltzed up the front steps. Not until the butler admitted her, informing her that the Dowager had returned from her entertainment and would enjoy a glass of wine with her in the Blue Salon, did her soaring spirits make an abrupt descent.

She was home again, and back to being the much-maligned Duchess.

But not any longer, she told herself. Not that she would be rude to her mother-in-law, but she did not intend to meekly endure her criticism. Though she wasn’t sure Lady Lyndlington’s ‘stare’ would work to silence so overbearing and self-important a woman, she would certainly excuse herself, if her husband’s mother decided that a ‘chat over wine’ meant a litany of reproof for her behaviour today.

Bracing herself, she entered the Blue Salon. ‘Did you enjoy the opera?’ she asked, seating herself and accepting a glass from the footman the Dowager waved to serve her.

‘It was tolerable. Although it had to be more entertaining than a dull political evening at Lord Witlow’s. I can’t imagine why you accepted that invitation.’

‘I didn’t find it dull at all. Conversation about the new Reform Bill was fascinating, and Lady Lyndlington is a very gracious hostess.’

‘Lyndlington? Ah, yes—Witlow’s daughter, Lady Margaret, married that jumped-up by-blow of the Earl of Telbridge—who is to inherit, despite the fact that the earl divorced his harlot of a mother! Quite the scandal!’

Just like the Dowager, to have some bit of disparaging gossip to divulge about every person one could mention. Avoiding any response that would allow her to elaborate, Faith said instead, ‘My brother-in-law, Lord Englemere, was also present, and asked me to call; his youngest child has been ill. I shall send my sister a note directly to see when is convenient. You mustn’t be alarmed,’ she added quickly, when the Dowager held up a hand in protest. ‘I know what a dread you have of illness, so there is no need for you to accompany me.’

‘Very well, if you feel you must, although I think it is very inconsiderate of your relations to ask you to visit a sick house, especially as you are a mother with three children of your own to protect!’

‘I believe the child is recovering, and most of my visit will be spent with my sister.’

‘I still think it encroaching. But I didn’t ask you to stop by to discuss some dull political gathering—I have exciting news that will certainly raise your spirits! Which have, quite properly, been downcast since the demise of our dear Edward—’ The Dowager paused, her voice wobbling as she wiped her eyes with a bit of muslin. ‘Well, no longer must we suffer being a household of women. My dear Randall has consented to live here with us! Now we shall have a gentleman’s escort to any entertainments we find proper to attend!’

The memory of her brother-in-law’s leering face, drunken smile and hard, grasping hands swept over her, followed by a wave of revulsion. Faith set down a glass that suddenly wobbled in her hand.

‘How...useful,’ she said at last.

‘I would have expected you to exhibit a bit more enthusiasm,’ the Dowager said tartly.

‘I’m tired, and the news is...shocking.’

‘Shocking? What is so unusual about a son coming to care for his mother?’

Faith bit down hard on her lip to stifle the replies that immediately sprang to mind. That the arrangement was probably more about the estate taking care of Lord Randall’s needs, than him caring for his mother. That he was highly unlikely to escort them to a gathering unless he wished to attend, and since he preferred spending most of his evenings at gambling hells, bordellos, and other establishments of dubious repute, they would be as often without masculine escort as they were currently.




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